


How The Monarch Botched Christmas

by pocky_slash



Category: The Venture Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-25
Updated: 2004-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1641005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tis the night before Christmas and while the Venture Family is out merry-making, The Monarch has discovered the perfect cure for his wintertime blues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How The Monarch Botched Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cobaltnine

_~_  
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the compound

The whole Venture family was nowhere to be found.

Doctor Venture, Brock, Dean and Hank, too

were all stuck in town with Important Things To Do.  
~

"Dean, that's the lamest thing I've ever seen!" Hank said, wrinkling his nose at the sweater that his brother was holding up. "Do you really think Pop would wear something like that?"

Dean frowned defensively. "I like it! And Pop likes dogs!" He glanced down at the bright green sweater with happy puppies jumping across the front of it. "Don't they remind you of Scamp?"

"No," Hank said defiantly. "They're not even the right color! I think we should just get him the tie with computer chips on it. It's sciencey, and Dad likes science!" The boys stood in the middle of the men's department, glaring at each other, each holding their gift suggestions tightly. They didn't move until they heard Brock calling their names.

"Dean! Hank! Where are you boys?" Both boys whirled around, scampering to get to Brock first.

"Brock, Dean won't listen to me and wants to get Dad this lame-o sweater--"

"No, no, my sweater is really cool! What would Dad do with a tie? He never wears ties!" As their squabbling continued, Brock held up a hand.

"Boys. Calm down. You're getting your dad a plutonium storage and containment unit. I got it from some old government buddies of mine for cheap. I already put your names on it and put it under the tree. Plus, if you fight too much--" He sighed, as if the words pained him. "--Santa won't bring you anything."

Dean and Hank both looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well," Dean said. "I guess it's more useful than a sweater..."

"Yeah, and I guess Dad really doesn't wear ties very often," Hank conceded. "Plus, I don't want to upset Santa!"

"Especially not on Christmas Eve!" Dean added.

Brock sighed as the boys ran off to put their gift suggestions back. He turned on his communicator watch. "We're finished here, Doc," he said into it, once it had connected with Dr. Venture. "The boys are done shopping and the threat of Santa has them quiet. Although I wish you would just put that myth to rest already..."

"No need to dash their hopes," Doctor Venture said over the connection. "And I'm finished too. I finally found the perfect gift for Pete White. I'll meet you in front of the food court in fifteen minutes." Brock sighed and turned off his watch. It was going to be a long Christmas Eve.

 _~_  
The Monarch was moping all glum in his bed

while visions of would-be-crimes danced in his head.

Dr. Girlfriend, she realized that this wouldn't do

and helped come up with a plot to freshen his spirits anew.  
~

"Would you please tell me what's wrong?" Dr. Girlfriend asked as the Monarch sighed and rolled over in bed. "You've been sulking around for days, weeks even! The Henchmen have started to notice. They're worried about you. I'm worried about you." She watched expectantly for any sign of movement from the Monarch. After a moment, he sighed and rolled over, again, turning his back to her. "Come on!" she insisted. "Get into the Christmas spirit!"

"I don't have any Christmas spirit," Monarch whined. "None! No holiday joy for the Monarch this year! I don't know what's wrong with me! I don't want to do anything!"

"Maybe you have one of those disorders," Dr. Girlfriend said. "You know, Christmas Depression Syndrome or whatever."

"It's called S.A.D.," Monarch snapped. "It's not that hard to remember. Seasonal... something Depression or something. I dunno. But whatever, it's an easy acronym." Before Dr. Girlfriend could interject he continued. "Still, that has nothing to do with it! I just... the year is almost over and I wasted so many opportunities to destroy the Venture family, and now I've got nothing to show for 365 days of trying to conquer them! I mean, I was in their freaking house and I couldn't even bring myself to destroy anything! What the hell was wrong with me?" With the most tremendous sigh so far, he buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay," Dr. Girlfriend said, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting his head. "I'm sure you can come up with something extra despicable next year."

"But next year doesn't matter, I have to do something this year! The year's practically over, I'll never come up with anything!"

Dr. Girlfriend was quiet for a moment, trying to think of something comforting to say. Suddenly, something one of the Henchmen had mentioned popped back into her head.

"You know... maybe you can still fit it in," she said slowly. "One of the Henchmen mentioned that he saw Brock Samson and the boys at the mall earlier. They were talking about a party they're going to tonight. Maybe you can sneak into the compound while their out and do some Christmas damage. It would make you feel better!"

The Monarch was quiet for a moment. "You know... that's a good idea! We can... yes! Yes, I can sneak in tonight and when they come home, their Christmas will be ruined! It's a little 'Grinch', but you can't go wrong with a classic!" He sat up and cackled. "Oh, thank you, Dr. Girlfriend! I'll get the Henchmen!" He jumped up from the bed and ran from the room calling, "Henchmen! Henchmen! We have some damage to do!"

 _~_  
He ran for his Henchmen and gathered them all

Cackling madly as he plotted Venture downfall.

Away to their vehicles they flew like a flash,

careening through roadways and alleys of trash.

They plowed through the mounds of the new fallen snow

Ignoring the caution signs that said to go slow.

When what to their wondering eyes did appear

but a large yellow sign saying the compound was near.

With a cackle, a holler and a gesture to the left

The Monarch and Henchmen pulled in and got set.

More rapid than eagles they plotted their game,

and the Monarch told them all their plans were lame.

"This is how we'll do it," he cackled with glee,

"So stop bickering and shut up and listen closely.

I'll crawl in through the vent above the garage

and run through to the lab to start my carnage!"

He regaled them with descriptions of the evil he planned

and the wonderful ways the Ventures would be scammed.

When that was all through, they gave him a hand,

and he found himself on the roof, just as he planned.  
~

"This is ridiculously easy," the Monarch said to himself as he unscrewed the air vent over the garage. "I mean, really, why did I never think of this before? Why isn't there some sort of alarm system rigged up? Why am I talking to myself?" He paused and threw the top of the vent off to the side, sliding into hole, dragging a huge bag of explosives and spray paint behind him.

"I mean, I guess it's because I don't like to do the actual damage myself," he continued, his voice echoing eerily throughout the ventilations system. "If you send a Henchman to do something like this he starts to get a big head, wonders if he can't be an arch-rival all on his own. No, once you're in my position you have to plan elaborate schemes so you can at least take the credit for it and keep yourself from being in a dangerous position. But this? This is genius. They'll never be expecting this, not from me! I'll just blow up the lab, graffiti their house, maybe throw some eggs around their kitchen... I'll be gone well before they get back... hey, is this vent getting smaller?"

He reached up, his hand hitting the top of the vent only a few inches above his head. "I could have sworn this was higher before... oh well. No matter. I'm sure I'm almost there."

A few minutes later, he wasn't so sure. "Okay, I _know_ it wasn't this tight before," he muttered, squeezing himself forward again. "This is ridiculous. I should just go out and go in through the front door." He tried to back up and barely got six inches before he hit the bag he was dragging behind him. He grunted and pushed against it. And again and again and it wouldn't move. He kicked the sack with all of his might and it still wouldn't budge.

"Oh crap," he muttered. "I should have just sent one of the Henchmen to do it..."

 _~_  
As the Monarch called his Henchmen to plot a way out,

the Ventures were returning from partying about.

As they flew in their jet with a bump and a roar

The Monarch held his breath and was scared to his core.

He could hear their loud chitchat as they clamored about

and he prayed to the butterflies he'd find a way out.

But soon they were gone and turned out the lights.

Monarch was sure he was in for a long night.

The boys -- how they pondered - would Santa be coming?

They got into bed, Christmas carols they were humming.

The Monarch, he waited, for signs from within

that sleep had fall on Venture and his kin.

When silence had finally enveloped the compound

he sighed with relief but paused and then frowned.

He frowned and he thought, waiting for a solution

that would end with him outside, not awaiting his execution.

Finally he decided to leave behind his sack

and wiggle his way forward, drop down, and attack.  
~

"Hank!" Dean hissed. "Hank!" He slid out of his bed and tip-toed over to his brother's. "Hank, wake up!" Hank rolled over and groaned. "Hank, I think I hear Santa!"

This got Hank's attention. "What?" he said. "Santa? Where?"

"Listen," Dean said, holding a finger to his lips. The boys were silent for a moment and soon they heard the rhythmic pounding from above.

"You're right!" Hank whispered in awe. "It sounds like he's on the roof! We should go find him!"  
"You can't go find Santa!" Dean gasped. "He knows we're awake! He could take our presents back!"

"We can pretend it's an accident," Hank said. "Like we just got up and forgot what day it was." There was silence for a moment, before Dean nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Let's go. But if Santa figures it out, it was all your idea!" Together, they put on their slippers and snuck into the hallways.

"It's coming from this way," Hank said. "Right over by the garage. Maybe Santa forgot where in our house the Christmas tree is. He needs our help!" The two boys rushed over towards the banging noise, all thoughts of revoked presents leaving their heads. They didn't even notice Brock's door opening behind them as they rushed by.

 _~_  
With a twist of his arm and a crack from his head,

the Monarch's stomach began filling with dread.

There were voices below and a creaking all around

and he knew deep down what was meant by that sound.

With a bang from outside he felt the vent give way;

He hit the ground with a thump and stood with a sway.

And just as he knew from the first echoing boom,

he was standing in front of his own certain doom.  
~

"You're Santa?!"

The Monarch blinked and coughed, the dust from the vents billowing around him in a cloud. When it cleared, he was faced with two stunned Venture brothers and one seething Brock Samson.

"He's not Santa, Dean," Brock said as he took a menacing step forward.

"But he has a big bag and everything," Dean said, pointing at the large sack of pillaging equipment that had also become dislodged from the air vent. Dean ran over to it. "Are there presents in there?"

"That's one way to put it," Monarch muttered, backing away. Brock stepped forward again. The Monarch cowered. "I was just... spreading Christmas cheer," he insisted. Brock walked over to the sack and opened it up.

"Spray paint. Explosives. Sure. Christmas Cheer," Brock said, dropping it back to the floor. "I thought better of you than to attack on Christmas."

"Haha, well, you see," Monarch stuttered, laughing unconvincingly. "I was going to--"

"Brock, is that you? Have you started putting the boys presents under the tree yet?" Dr. Venture called from back in the hallway. Brock smacked his forehead in frustration. Dean and Hank just looked confused.

"But... I thought the Monarch was Santa," Dean said.

"He's not Santa, boys," Brock repeated.

"Then... Dad is Santa?" Hank said, looking just as bewildered as his brother.

"No, Hank. Santa doesn't exist," Brock said, advancing on The Monarch again.

"Take that back!" Dean shouted. "Take it back or else Santa won't leave you any presents!" Brock sighed and lifted the Monarch by his arm.

"Please oh please," Monarch said. "I was going to send a Henchman to do it, honest! Don't kill me! Who will be your arch-nemesis, then? Can't you let me go this once, in the spirit of Christmas?"

"Brock, hurry up," the doctor called from the house. "I don't want to eat all these cookies by myself and you know if we leave any out the boys will think Santa hates them again." Brock closed his eyes and sighed again.

"So... you're Santa, Brock?" Dean asked. Brock ignored him and turned to face The Monarch.

"Look," he said. "I need to set these kids straight and repair the damage you did to our house _and_ set up the Christmas tree. I'll give you a three day head start. Start running now - I'll find you by the new year." He released the Monarch, who stepped way gratefully and rushed towards the exit. "Wait! You forgot your bag of toys," Brock called after him, kicking the sack that was still on the ground.

"If he has toys he _must_ be Santa!" Hank said.

"Boys... we need to go have a long talk."

~  
 _And they heard him exclaim as he ran out of sight,_

"Next year I'll leave Christmas to Baron Underbheit!"  
~

The End.

 


End file.
